


angel of small death

by Naiesu



Series: the codeine scene [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But only a little, Character Study, Cinnamon Roll to Sinnamon Roll Link, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fever Dreams, Hate to Love, Hero Worship, Link is angry, Link is gay and doesn't know it, M/M, Male Sheik (Legend of Zelda), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prophecy, Sheik (Legend of Zelda) is a Separate Character, Sheik is a bitch, Sheik is bitter, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, fighting destiny, of sorts, probably gonna have hate sex before the love but who can say, start of something - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23851732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naiesu/pseuds/Naiesu
Summary: The boy catches Link’s hat, pulling it off, and when Link swings around there’s a long needle just in front of his neck. A threat.“What,”Link grits out through his teeth.The boy makes another face. Disappointed. Link feels his blood pressure sky-rocketing. “Awful reflexes,” the boy says. “A wonder why the Goddess chose someone like,” he trails off, making another gesture that Link assumes he’s supposed to understand, “well, you.”~~~After Zelda's disappearance into the Gate of Time, it's decided that Sheik will accompany Link on the rest of his journey to act as a guide and maestro to the Goddess' Chosen Hero.
Relationships: Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link/Sheik (Legend of Zelda)
Series: the codeine scene [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718767
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	1. feeling more human

_ You must go now. Return to the old woman at the Sealed Grounds and tell her what happened here. _

Link stares at the broken Gate of Time, standing amidst the rubble and wondering how he even got to this point. Why is he here? What’s he supposed to do now?

It’s no longer a game of tracking down Zelda and watching her get stolen away time after time. He knows where she is—or at least where she’ll go. After that it’s just a matter of getting her and taking her  _ home.  _ Maybe he’ll have to do something after that, maybe he won’t. He’ll be a lot more open to saving the Surface if Zelda is far, far away.

“Link.”

It’s an unfamiliar voice, and Link draws his sword in an instant, spinning around and holding his shield up to brace for the attack that he’s sure is coming. There was no one in the courtyard after Ghirahim left. Just Link and his own hopelessness. Unless someone was hanging around just outside the walls there’s no way someone could’ve been on him so fast. Unless they used magic.

A few seconds pass where Link waits and waits and waits for the blow, but he doesn’t even hear movement. He pulls his shield down slowly, eyes peeking over the metal.

There’s a boy standing just in front of him, dressed in Sheikahn garb just like Impa. A long strand of hair flows freely in front of his face, and the rest is done up in a braid, tied back with strips of fabric and thread. The two of them look fairly similar, done up in the same manner. Link wonders if they’re in a class of their own.

“Are you finished?” The boy asks. His tone is impatient and unimpressed and Link doesn’t want to hear it.

“Do you have something to say to me?” Link asks. It comes out a lot harsher than he expects, but he doesn’t care to catch himself. Not now.

The boy looks him over once, making a face to himself before meeting Link’s eye again. “There’s nothing worth saying.”

Link grips his sword, tight, tight, tight, and breathes out harshly through his nose. He doesn’t have to put up with this. Whoever this boy is thinks highly of himself—enough that Link is barely a speck on his radar. At least that’s how it sounds in his words.

“If you’re done then,” Link says, walking by. His footsteps come down heavy on the stone, echoing in the chasm and bouncing back up around them, “I’ve got places to go.”

The boy catches Link’s hat, pulling it off, and when Link swings around there’s a long needle just in front of his neck. A threat.

_ “What,”  _ Link grits out through his teeth.

The boy makes another face. Disappointed. Link feels his blood pressure sky-rocketing. “Awful reflexes,” the boy says. “A wonder why the Goddess chose someone like,” he trails off, making another gesture that Link assumes he’s supposed to understand, “well, you.”

Link thinks about gutting him and taking the reprimanding from Impa later. He wonders if they’re related, if it will somehow put him in poor standing with the Goddess to commit murder. He wonders if he even cares. Doesn’t think he does.

“Give me my hat,” Link says finally. His voice is even, but he can’t help the expression from reaching his eyes that he just  _ knows  _ is going to give the boy more fire to burn him with.

“Or what?” The boy flicks his hand quickly, and multiple needles are suddenly  _ there,  _ nestled between his fingers like daggers. “Are you going to hit me?”

“I—”

“Stab me? Beat me within an inch of my life? Are you going to kill me?” The boy purses his lips. “Since that’s the only thing you seem to know how to do.”

Link looks at him for another moment. There’s nothing kind in his eyes, just impatience and hard cruelty, and Link hates that it’s driving him up the wall. He hasn’t done anything. In fact, he’s done  _ everything.  _ So why is it that a random boy he’s never met is trying so hard to get into a fight.

“You know what?” Link says. He sheaths his sword, not breaking eye contact. “Keep it. Consider it a gift.”

He turns and starts walking away, trying to find pride in self-control but coming up short when the boy scoffs and walks after him.  _ Leave me alone. _

“For  _ what?” _

“For my  _ adoring fan,”  _ Link sneers. He doesn’t look over when the boy speeds up his gait so they’re walking toe to toe, ignoring him as best he can. The sand from the desert is kicking up around them, no longer held back by the tall stone walls protecting the Gate of Time. Link squints and pretends it’s for protection and not out of anger.

_ “Your—”  _ The boy takes a breath, seeming to be steeling himself. “I’m not a fan,” he says after a brief pause. He pulls the fabric around his face a bit tighter, and Link wishes just for a second that he had something to keep the sand out of his nose, too.

“Really,” he says, sarcastic.

The boy mutters something under his breath, and it sounds a lot like,  _ ‘More disappointing by the second’.  _ They’re close to a bird statue, and Link sees freedom just that many feet away. The boy can’t follow him up into the clouds, is bound to the Surface. He thinks. He hopes.

The boy dogs his heels, ignorant to Link’s cold, exhausted mental monologue. He doesn’t say much else, instead holding his head high and proud and looking at Link like he’s a sky stag beetle beneath his boot. Like he expects to be ferried along like royalty.

“Are you almost done following me?” Link asks.

They’re in front of the bird statue, and it glows in response to Link’s presence. The boy looks at it with thinly veiled awe.

“‘Almost done’?” The boy parrots back. “Do you know nothing of your destiny?”

_ I know more than you,  _ Link thinks, but he doesn’t say it. He furrows his eyebrows.

The boy makes another face, and Link considers whapping him across the cheek with the back of his palm. He doesn’t know why he’s so angry. Or maybe he does. Watching Zelda disappear again, closer than ever, stolen away from him—it’s got his blood boiling. He feels itchy with it. Everyone’s out to get him and even the people that are supposed to be on his side are toeing the line between ally and enemy.

“I’ve been instructed by the Goddess to accompany you for the remainder of your journey,” the boys says. “Or at least a part of it. It’s come to our knowledge that you have no musical capacity.”

_ No musical capacity.  _ It sounds like something Zelda spread around. It wasn’t a secret that he always suffered most in their music classes in school.

If the boy is coming with him Link wants to try to get their journey over as quickly as possible. He doesn’t know what exactly he needs the boy for, or what they’ll be doing, but the effort of two is better than one, and Link knows what the Sheikah are capable of. He just hopes this boy has half the experience Impa does.

“Are you at least gonna tell me your name?” Link asks. He’s tired already, has come to terms with their arrangement—for the moment.

The boy holds his gaze for a few seconds, then reaches up to unclasp the fabric around his mouth. It falls to one side, hanging from behind his ear, and Link purses his lips without thinking, feeling his cheeks go hot.

The boy looks at him, not noticing Link’s sudden embarrassment. He’s handsome, almost pretty, and Link glances away, pretending to see something in the distance. Trying not to think about it.

His lips part, looking soft and supple, and he says, evenly, “Sheik.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! i expect to write at least a few more installments to this series, probably just oneshots like this but potentially longer fics. come visit me on twitter at [naiesu_s](twitter.com/naiesu_s) !!


	2. bold and boyful

They don’t talk on the way from Lanayru up into the clouds. They wouldn’t be able to hear each other either way, and Link is glad for the overpowering sound of his Loftwing’s wings beating the air like a drum. Condensation in the clouds whips across his face, dampening his skin and clothes and hair and Link feels like he’s home.

Sheik’s hands have a vice grip around his midsection, fingers digging into his stomach like knives. Link tries to ignore his presence, but it’s obvious how strange and off it feels to be flying with another person. It’s not something he’s ever done besides in practice and the off times he has to go ferry someone between islands. Instead this is going to be his new normal.

Link steers them to the hole in the clouds over Faron, flying as low as his Loftwing will allow. He’s unhappy, and Link can tell just how upset he is in the way he tilts this way and that. The way he makes Link work just a bit harder to control him than usual. They rarely see each other anymore. It’s been weeks.

But there’s no time for happy reunions. Not yet. Link hasn’t seen any of his companions since all this started—in fact he’s not sure he’s seen anyone besides Beetle. Just enough to buy what he needs before running to the next place. He’s even convinced his bird to fly with him at night more than once. It’s the third time he’s back since that fateful day in Faron Woods and it already feels like a place he no longer belongs in. Maybe the Surface  _ is _ tainted. Just like he was taught so long ago.

Link prepares himself to jump overboard, but hardly gets to shift his weight before Sheik grabs him and holds on. He yells something—panicked, Link assumes—but Link just leans that much further over and they’re both sent tumbling into the clouds. He opens his arms, slowing his descent and leaning, leaning, leaning until he’s positioned over where he wants to be, and Sheik shoots down on his left, screaming.

_ I swear,  _ Link thinks, pursing his lips. He tucks his limbs in, angling downward, and the ground blurs beneath him. His eyes are watering, face feeling wind-whipped, and he jams his arm out, fighting against the air.

Sheik is scrambling—as much as he can anyway—and Link tries to catch his hand, but he’s looking stalwartly at the ground.

_ Shit.  _ They’re coming up on the ground,  _ fast,  _ and Link knows with the weight of the two of them it’s going to be a rough landing. He tries to make himself as small as possible, and grabs the neck of Sheik’s shirt, jerking him back when he opens his arms and legs again. It slows them down a lot, but not enough.

Sheik turns over immediately, grabbing onto Link’s leg and clinging, and Link is thankful for it. It gives him time to pull out his sailcloth and unfurl it bit by bit, enough to catch the air and slow their descent without ripping his arms off in the process.

They’re still moving quickly when he pulls it all the way open, and it snaps in the air like a piston, jerking his arms so hard they ache. It slows them, and although it’s still faster than he’d like it’s enough to be a safe landing.

Sheik drops from Link when they get close enough, landing on the ground  _ almost  _ effortlessly. He’s shaking, thrown out of balance by their freefall. Link doesn’t blame him.

He lands a few seconds after, and folds the sailcloth up neatly, hooking it into the belt of his satchel. Sheik is already walking away, quiet. Link thinks he prefers it like that. It’s easier to get along when he’s not talking.

They’ve got a long visit ahead of them. The old woman in the Sealed Temple is talking about evil—again, nothing new there—but now they’ve got sacred flames and purifying in the mix. Link has days, weeks, maybe  _ months  _ of work ahead of him, and it’s frustrating how he’s gotten so close and ended up so far away. Again.

The woman teaches Sheik a song on the lyre— _ Zelda’s lyre. Meant for him— _ and he picks it up easily, deft fingers working like magic on the strings. They’ll need it on their journey, she says.  _ Their  _ journey. No longer his and his alone. This started out as a journey to save Zelda and it’s become something big enough to make or break the world.  _ I’m so tired. _

As much as he hates to say it, Sheik is good at what he does. He’s nimble, picking the chords from the instrument and making it sing. Link’s thankful for that, at the very least. It’s one less thing he has to worry about, one less thing he doesn’t have to kill himself to learn. It’s saving time.

The old woman talks about the new Gate of Time, about what it does and where it goes and how they’ll get there and every ounce of it is reliant on Link and his abilities. His luck. If something happens to him, if he gets hurt, it’s a setback they can’t afford. If he dies, so does humanity. He tries not to focus on the feeling of the world crushing him down, hanging onto his shoulders and dragging until it feels like gravity is going to suck him right to the center of the Surface and consume him. He wants to be back in the sky, relaxing on the back of his Loftwing and feeling the breeze tugging at his clothes. The Surface is thick with evil and hate and he wants to stop worrying that he’ll never get another chance to fly.

The ground shakes, hard, and Link braces himself unthinkingly, hand swinging back to the pommel of his blade. Fi’s energy pulses, meeting him halfway, and he feels just a bit steadier. Something is wrong.

_ He has awakened,  _ Fi says, a voice in the back of his mind. Link turns around and looks at the door leading to the Grounds, feeling the evil like a miasma surrounding him. They’re out of time.

Someone says something, a shout, but Link is already on his way out, riding on a gut feeling. He knows what he has to do but he doesn’t know what.

_ Seal him,  _ Fi says, and Link doesn’t have to ask twice.

He runs over the edge of the Grounds, diving into the pit and rolling when he lands. Diving, rolling, diving, rolling, rolling, rolling and he’s there. He raises his sword to the clouds, and his hand shakes with the power imbuing it, but he tightens his grip and waits.

Power, black and cloying, wraps around his arm, snaking its way up and snuffing out the light. Link jumps back, feeling the presence in front of him even though he can’t see it.

The ground shakes, enveloped in shadow, and a monster rises, climbing step by step into their world. It opens its mouth, wide, and bellows.

Link’s ears ring, then pop, and he runs. Away, anywhere, somewhere with a better vantage point. The creature moves slowly, but the pit is only so deep. Eventually it will make its way to the top, and Link doesn’t want to find out what happens if it does.

He gets to the second level, watching it walk step after step. It’s covered in hard black scales, besides its toes and the seal raised on its forehead.

_ The seal,  _ Fi says.

Link doesn’t think. He jumps off the level down onto its head, sword in both hands, and slams it down. Once, twice, three times, four—

It screams, shaking, and Link grabs the seal.  _ I’m not chancing it.  _ It shakes and shakes and shakes but Link holds fast.

It drops onto its stomach, shaking. The scales turn from black to red. Link swings around, trying to brace himself rather than dangle off its head. He can’t hear a thing, can only watch as the creature tears a path into the ground as it slithers up the pit.

It’s mad, angry. Link knows he doesn’t have much time, maybe less than he had once assumed, and he finds a place to put his feet and raises his sword skyward again.

It takes longer this time. The clouds are blocked off, but sunlight pierces through, soaking his sword in light.

_ Now,  _ Fi says.

Link spins his sword around in his hands, jamming it into the seal and sinking in.

The creature stops moving, as though frozen in time. A second passes, two, and it explodes, throwing scales in a thousand direction. Link only gets his shield halfway up, and a few slice into the exposed skin of his arms, through his pants, his cheeks. They bury themselves in him, darts, and he chokes on the feeling. Immersed in it.

_ You.  _ It’s a new voice, one he’s never heard. Disembodied, speaking into his ear from outside and in. Link grabs his head, dropping his sword, and sways, dizzy.

_ Weak. _

Black takes over his vision, and Link lets unconsciousness take over without a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come visit me on twitter at [naiesu_s](twitter.com/naiesu_s) and talk to me about shink!!


	3. the rest of tonight

He dreams—dreams of someone who looks just like him but different, weathered and older. They share the same expectations, the same journey, but somehow that’s where the similarities end. He doesn’t see any bitterness, sadness, anger reflected on the man’s face. Only resignation and strength.

_ Wake up,  _ the man says.

_ Your work has only just begun. _

Link opens his eyes slowly, squinting at the harsh light shining down on him. The floor is hard beneath him, padded only by dirt and a small pillow. It feels like his skin has been grated off. Even breathing is a struggle.

The old woman is standing over him, braid swinging back and forth slowly above his face. She looks worried, deep brown eyes searching his gaze for something he’s not sure he can give.

“You’re awake,” she says. A simple statement.

_ I am,  _ he thinks. He doesn’t want to be.

“Sheik,” she says. Link can't see him from where he's laying, but he hears the almost imperceptible sound of Sheik's footsteps coming closer. "Bring me the potion."

It only takes a few seconds before Sheik is there, looking down on him as he hands over a small vial. Link sighs, not wanting it, but the pain is bad enough that he’s willing to drink any potion to make it go away.

The old woman kneels down beside him, uncorking the bottle with her thumb, and Link tries to sit up to meet her halfway, but his body gives in and he thumps back down onto the stone.

“Stop moving,” she chides, cupping the back of his head to pull him upright and tipping the bottle into his mouth.

It tastes awful, bitter and tangy, scratching its way down his throat. It burns for a moment, and then it numbs, tingling. He can feel his neck sewing itself back together, and as the potion moves down and settles in his stomach so do the effects of the magic. He feels like he’s sitting on a bed of sand, ever shifting and moving. It hurts. It feels good.

The old woman looms over him, watching, and lifts her hair from her eyes after a moment. She reaches out, touching the side of his neck. Hums.

“It’s the best we’re going to get,” she says, sighing. Link doesn’t want to know what that means.

Sheik is standing almost out of his line of sight, arms crossed over his chest and nose upturned as it’s been since they first met. But there’s something else now, not quite curiosity. Worry, Link would guess, but he doubts that’s right.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” Sheik asks. Link closes his eyes, sighing, and tries not to be consumed by his own nerves.

“No,” the old woman says. “No, it’s not. But there’s little else we can do besides wait. Time will tell what this wound holds.”

Link doesn’t want to think about what feeling he finds behind her words. He’s sure she has the means to heal him, at least in time. There’s no way a wound like this would kill him, is there?

The old woman waits a beat, and then stands again, looking down at him. “You must go, Hero, and continue your journey. I’m afraid The Imprisoned hasn’t been sealed forever. You’ve merely bought us a little more time with which to act.”

She turns, gives Sheik a look, and walks away.

They barely make it back up to the Sky. Link’s arms are shaking and weak, but he manages to hold on to his sailcloth just long enough to have them hovering over the clouds. He drops his grip on it, whistling with his pinkies, and falls.

His Loftwing darts beneath him, catching him on his back with ease. Link holds on, fingers digging into his feathers, and presses his face into the bird’s neck. He’s warm, and Link swears he can feel their connection like a living thing. A warm heart, beating between them. Unspoken.

Sheik holds on tightly, a little less so than before, and Link finds he doesn’t have to try so hard to ignore it. It comes naturally.

They’re flying towards Skyloft, directly at the school. Link knows where he’s meant to go. No one knows the Ballad of the Goddess better than Gaepora himself, who he’s sure has heard it nonstop for weeks on end in preparation for the ceremony. If he doesn’t know it, then the old woman was wrong, and there’s no hope for them up here above the clouds.

It’s nearly night, and the only people out are those on patrol. They’ve managed to avoid everyone on the way here, and Link is thankful for it. He doesn’t want to be stopped by people, not now, not when he’s got so much to do. Every second spent up here is a second wasted.

A light shines behind him, someone quickly coming up on his rear, and Link guides them as close as his bird dares to get to Skyloft. He leans over, kicking off the stirrups and rolling to his feet on the hard stone. His body aches with the impact, and he hisses, wobbling as he stands. It’s going to be a long while before he feels normal again. He won’t let it slow him down.

Sheik is slow following him to the school. His eyes drink in every inch of Skyloft, using what little light the lanterns offer to get his fill of the Sky. He acts as though this is somewhere he wants to be, like he doesn’t want to just get all this over with, too, and find his way back home.

“Come on,” Link says, not turning to look at him.

Sheik makes a sound, a huff, and follows without saying anything. The doors are locked, but Link has had more than enough practice sneaking in and out of the building to know exactly how to do it.

He steps over the edge of the island, hands gripping the wooden beams of the school and holding on tight as he can manage.

“What are you doing?” Sheik hisses.

“Are you coming, or not?” Link asks, quiet.

“Coming—” Sheik turns in a circle, hands lifting to fist his hair in frustration. “Are you  _ joking?!” _

Link continues on, counting the windows until he’s sure which room is his. “Fine. Stay out here for all I care.”

Sheik makes another noise, seeming to fight with himself, and grabs the wooden beam the same as Link had done. He watches carefully, eyeing the way Link’s feet shuffle on the very edges of the island, and follows suit. He’s much less practiced, feet scrabbling and knuckles white with tension. He shoves his body as close to the building as he can manage, and Link ignores his curses.

There’s a small slip in the bottom of his window, and he jams his fingers into it, pushing it up. Dust billows out at him, making him cough.

He reaches in, grabbing onto the sill and hoisting himself inside. There’s a split second where he almost loses his grip, exhausted, but he manages easily enough.

Link pokes his head out the window, watching for Sheik impatiently. Once he’s inside they’ll go upstairs, wake Gaepora, learn the song, find out what to do. Sheik will play a little tune. Maybe that will be all they need to split up again.

“Hero,” Sheik bites out, and Link rolls his eyes, leaning on the sill while he waits, “when I get in there, I  _ swear—” _

He gasps, fingers slipping, and Link lurches forward, grabbing his forearm. There’s fear in Sheik’s eyes, real fear, and Link raises his eyebrows. He and Impa get on his case constantly about not being fast enough, not good enough, a disgrace, and here Sheik is worrying about tumbling into the clouds like he’s not made for the Surface.

Link pulls him inside, and Sheik falls to his knees, graceless.

The room looks exactly like it did the last time he saw it. There’s a fine layer of dust over everything, untouched, and Link isn’t sure whether he’s grateful or disappointed. He wanted things to be exactly the way they used to be, didn’t he? So why does it feel wrong.

He ignores it, leaving the room and feeling Sheik at his heels. He can’t hear him at all, but he knows he’s there.

Link takes the steps upstairs almost too quickly, and nearly trips more than once, but once he’s in front of Gaepora’s room he bangs on the door. Once, twice. A second passes, and Link tries to listen for him, but there’s no sound coming from within. He slams his hand down again, waiting.

_ Come—! _

Sheik’s hand jumps into his vision, grabbing his wrist before he makes contact with the door again. “Hero,” he says. “Are you trying to wake the entire building?”

Link bites his lip, looking down, and Sheik drops his hand. It falls to his side. He doesn’t want to wait. Just wants to get this all over with so he can relax in his room and pretend none of it ever happened.

Another few seconds pass, and Sheik sighs. They’re both exhausted. It’s barely been a day and so much has happened already. It doesn’t seem like just earlier this morning he was down in Lanayru, one hand on his shield and the other on the Gust Bellows fighting a creature as big as a house. His midsection is still bruised from the claws.

“Let’s rest,” Sheik says after a moment. “We’ll need the energy for tomorrow.”

Link doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring, but he knows Sheik is right, and he hates it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come visit me on twitter at [naiesu_s](twitter.com/naiesu_s)


	4. a change of heart (hopefully)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic has been almost volatile in feel so far and ive realized its because i started it with the expectation to just make it a series with a bunch of disjointed oneshots, but then i realized i was too interested and needed to make it into an actual story. hope its been enjoyable nonetheless!!

Somehow the two of them had managed to get a night’s worth of sleep, and although Link feels better, refreshed, exhaustion has taken hold almost immediately after he’s woken up. They have to jump from place to place, scaling towers and flying back beneath the clouds with a new animatronic Scrapper that seems to be out to get him for existing. It’s become a theme, a running gag in Link’s life, and it drives a nail deeper and deeper within him.

That was the worst part of all. Having to walk into the Bazaar and see concerned faces following him around, asking him a hundred questions that he didn’t have the answer to. Where had he been, what was he doing, why did he disappear,  _ where is Zelda? _

He had convinced Sheik to stay in his room at the school, against his wishes. Link doesn’t know what he’s so interested in up here, why he’s so readily throwing himself out into the unknown. Maybe he’s heard a story like they seem to tell on the Surface about the Goddess’ chosen.

By the time he’s made it back with the turbine it’s nearly dusk again, and people are talking, spreading rumors and gossip, he’s sure. He tries to stay out of earshot and line of sight, but life seems to have other interests, and the windmills grind and turn with enough force to make the ground shake.

He hopes no one comes looking for him, but it’s impossible to expect otherwise. He’s drawn attention to himself, turned Skyloft into a tool, and he’s the only one with answers to explain it. It wouldn’t be enough either way—he has no idea what he’s doing, what he’s  _ done.  _ None of this makes sense, he’s just trying to further the story to get where he needs to be.

Sheik is still in his room when he shoves his way through the throng of people to get back into the school. People are following him, begging for help, asking question after question after  _ question. _ He closes his door on them, trying to catch his breath without someone breathing down his neck.

“Are you ready to go?” Link asks.

Sheik’s eyebrows are raised, caught off guard, and he nods. “You were gone for quite some time, Hero.”

“I had a lot to do,” he says. The bed in the corner of the room is already looking inviting enough to have him willing to stay another night in Skyloft.

Sheik looks him over, once, eyes the burns and ash and sand, and nods once, accepting it. Link wonders if he’s ever been out of Faron besides to meet him in Lanayru. Wonders if he’s ever thrown himself into an active volcano to chase a friend and get told off for not being fast enough.

“I’m ready when you are,” he says. He almost sounds sorry.

Link pulls his door open, and Pipit nearly falls at his feet, barely catching himself.

“Link!” he says, loud. People are clamouring to be heard over each other. “What is going—”

He cuts himself off, catching sight of Sheik, and looks him over once, eyebrows furrowing. “Who is this?”

Sheik is stiff as a board behind him, looking caught. His arms are crossed behind his back, and he’s straightened out, face set but eyes wild. He looks more like Impa than he’s ever seen before.

_ Everyone  _ is staring. It’s the first time since the beginning of Sky history that someone new has entered their midst that everyone hasn’t met immediately at birth. It’s shocking. It’s scary. It’s  _ exciting. _

“Go,” Link hisses, grabbing him and pulling him toward the exit.

Everyone is still stunned, and Link walks fast to the Tower. They only have a few more minutes of good light, and it’s shooting down through the glass onto a small platform that they need to get up to. He’ll make his peace with people when he’s back for good. He will.

But for the meantime they’ve got places to be and no time to get there. Link sends Sheik up first, and he jumps, inhumanly agile, making it to the first level with ease. Everyone is still following them in a group, and they gasp in awe, watching the spectacle. Link isn’t sure whether he’s jealous or not.

The two of them get to the top with little issue, and when Link looks over the edge people are standing at the bottom. Watching. It unsettles him. He’s spent so long going under the radar that it’s like he’s been thrown back into childhood, gawked over for bonding with a crimson Loftwing and prophesized to be something important.

Sheik has the lyre out when Link reaches the top, and his long fingers have already begun plucking at the strings. Tuning, Link guesses. He looks like he’s practiced for this moment his entire life, a maestro in waiting, and something about that draws Link in. If they were anywhere else, doing anything but this, Link thinks he may find himself interested in Sheik. Want to know more about him, maybe even find himself searching out friendship. His life is nothing but  _ maybe’s  _ and  _ what if’s. _

“Are you ready, Hero?” Sheik asks, hands poised on the lyre.

Link nods, and Sheik begins to play. It’s just as beautiful as he remembers it being in the Sealed Grounds, and he takes this moment to lean back against one of the pillars and really absorb it. He’s truly a good musician, Link can recognize that.

It’s only been a day or two, but after having some time for himself once again he had found himself thinking about Sheik. Link had come to wonder if he had been raised by Impa, if they were reacting to Zelda’s predicament the same way he was—stressed, worried, ready to blame it on someone else. There’s something good about Sheik, he thinks he sees it in subtle movements and the tone of his voice. In another life they may have gotten along. Perhaps they still can.

It’s less work on him to have another person there to take the brunt of his expectations and hold half of them. Link wonders what he would have done last night if Sheik hadn’t been right there with him. Would he have sat outside Gaepora’s door, banging until everyone was awake to hound him? He wouldn’t have slept. Would have thrown himself right into harm’s way yet again just to have something to do. To not have to think. He wonders when he would’ve had another second to rest.

But no, that hadn’t happened. Sheik may have been looking out for himself, wanting for a few moments of sleep, but it meant that Link also got rest. He needed something like that. Link looks at Sheik, closely this time, at his closed eyes and softly parted lips, and thinks maybe they just got off on the wrong foot.

He grabs the pillar he’s resting against when the tower shakes, turning in a slow circle until the light is focused into a mirror. It glows, bright and hot, and Link shields his eyes, lurching when a beam of light shoots out towards the Thunderhead. His ears are ringing from the sound of it.

The air shifts, and when Link peers out between his fingers with caution, Sheik is in front of him, eyes gauging. Link isn’t sure of the expression in his face, but it’s set, and Link stands up straight, looking away. The Thunderhead is dangerous, surrounded by cyclones and toiling clouds. It lights up, brilliant flashes of lightning outlining shadows like snakes.

They meet each other’s eyes again, and Link jumps off the tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come visit me on twitter at [naiesu_s](twitter.com/naiesu_s)


	5. headway

It only takes an hour or so to make it into the Thunderhead and into the Isle of Songs, and thankfully the process is sped forward by Sheik. Link does all of the hard work pushing the bridges into alignment, but it would’ve taken him far longer if Sheik hadn’t been there to guide him and help figure out the puzzle.

By the time they crawl into the heart of the island they’re both soaking wet and dripping over the ancient stone. There’s a long walkway extending forward that ends in a small circular platform, and a dead drop off surrounds them on all sides. When Link walks forward and peers over the edge he sees lightning flashing, swallowed by the clouds. Thunder rumbles, distant, and Link steps back, unnerved.

Sheik is already at the end of the platform when he looks up again, head craned to take in the full glory of the Goddess statue in front of them. Link steps forward, but stays out of the way, waiting to see what he does. Waiting to see if he’s needed and hoping he isn’t.

“What should I play?” Sheik asks, and Link is startled to hear the barely-there waver in his voice. He sounds unsure of himself.

The room lights up in soft purples and blues, and Fi dives out of his sword, bridging the distance between them with silent footsteps. She doesn’t touch the ground, gaze forward.

Sheik startles, holding the lyre in a tight grip. He’s never seen Fi before, and Link almost finds himself laughing at the look on his face. A legendary sword, real and physical in front of him.

That might be what’s set the two of them off. The more Link thinks about it the more it seems plausible—how much history and myth has Sheik been taught, how much does he know? It seems as though he’s been taught the part he would play in preparation for Link to show up. He wonders if he was disappointing to meet in person. It would be a theme.

Fi stops in front of Sheik, and looks back at Link, as though waiting for the go-ahead. Sheik looks back at him, too, just a glance, and then faces forward again.

He plucks a string on the lyre, and Link immediately knows it’s the Ballad of the Goddess. The sound fills the empty space, sounding much louder, amplified.

Sheik starts the song, swaying and leaning into the music, and Fi jumps up, dancing and skating through the air. The light shimmers where she passes by, dropping flashes of light like sparkles around them.

The Goddess statue opens with a long whine of stone against stone, and a voice comes out, ethereal. Link feels wrapped up in it, the feeling, and finds he has a hard time breathing. It’s almost too much. Ancient, stifling power in a single song carrying prophecy on its tongue.

Link sighs when it’s finished, listening to the echo bounce far below them until it disappears out in the Thunderhead. They’ll be on their way, then, now that it’s all finished. Fi talks about leaving, going down to the Surface. To Faron Woods. Something waits for them there.

She disappears in another flash, and they’re alone again.

It’s different now. Maybe because Link has had time to think about it, and maybe because he imagines that Sheik may have too. The biting words have stopped after that first day, and the two of them have only sprinkled in a few extra on the side. They’re in it together now—they’ve come to terms with that.

Sheik turns and looks at him, looking at the ready, patient but almost nervous. Link feels the same way. If it were just him he would’ve been out into the Thunderhead already, on the back of his Loftwing and on his way to Faron to trek through the night until he got so tired he had to stop. Now there’s someone else there, and as much as he wants to move on he also wants to keep everyone else out of the line of fire as much as he can. If Link pushed forward with Sheik, forced him to go on without ample rest, if Link got Sheik  _ hurt— _

He would never forgive himself.

“Should we make camp?” he asks. It comes out haltingly. He knows what he wants to say and struggles to turn the thought into words.

Sheik blinks, staring at him, and furrows his eyebrows. Just enough to be noticeable. “You don’t want to press forward?”

“You need to rest.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sheik says, and now he looks irritated, trying to stand up for himself and prove to Link that he’s something.

“We don’t know that,” Link says. He takes off the many belts and straps holding his sword and shield fast to his torso, setting them in the corner by the small opening of the island.

Sheik walks toward him, lyre tight in his fist. He’s taller than Link, almost a foot, but far more lithe. Link could take him, easily, if he needed to. But he doesn’t need to. So why is he immediately jumping to the logistics of taking him down?

“If you’re ready to go on, Hero, then so am I.” Sheik stops in front of Link, and raises his shoulders like that will make him seem bigger, unstoppable.

Link lowers himself to a sitting position, trying to find comfort and coming up short. He’s tense, nervous despite himself, and wonders why it’s so hard to even  _ want  _ sleep. “We’re staying.”

Sheik takes a deep breath.  _ “Hero,  _ we don’t need to—”

Link looks up at him, perhaps a bit sharp, and Sheik squeezes his mouth shut, looking like it takes every ounce of energy not to come after him. He breathes again, deep, and closes his eyes and nods. It looks like acceptance but Link knows it’s not, is only forced submission.

Sheik takes a seat across from him, leaning against the opposite wall with his legs tightly crossed. He digs in the small pack on his hip, and sets down a vial and a cloth. Link watches him carefully dip into the oil, and his eyes follow Sheik’s fingers as they slowly clean and polish the lyre. It settles something in Link that had been worried about Sheik’s treatment of such a gift, but he’s grateful. He knows he would’ve taken far less care with it.

A part of him likes Sheik. They’ve barely spoken, and Link knows it’s both because he’s shut Sheik down and because Sheik has shut  _ himself  _ down, both out of a twisted sense of duty. There’s something inherently interesting about the Surface, about its people, and Link is brimming with questions he doesn’t know how to ask. What was it like, how was he raised, why was it him that was chosen? What made him special?

That’s something he likes about Sheik. As much as he tries to hold himself back when Link pushes him, a bit always slips out around the edges. Everyone either lays down at his feet, amazed by his sword or his tunic or his very  _ race,  _ or they beat him down, unimpressed and disappointed by him. Sheik does neither. He does both. He’s balanced on the precipice, respects him but doesn’t, keeps his mouth shut but wants to have his voice heard.

“Do you wanna say something?” Link asks, lifting his knee and resting his forearm on it.

Sheik looks up at him through his eyelashes, and Link finds himself caught up in his gaze. Bright red eyes. He can’t look away. Sheik’s lips part like he’s going to say something, and Link finds his gaze drawn there, to the way his tongue follows the shape of his bottom lip.

He looks down suddenly, and Link isn’t sure why it feels like a loss. “It’s not my place.”

“Yes it is,” Link pushes. He wants a fight, he wants to see Sheik’s personality. Doesn’t want to travel with another quiet, acquiescent companion. “If you have something to say, say it.”

“No,” Sheik says, busying himself, or trying to.

“I wanna hear it,” Link pushes, hard.

Sheik drops his hands into his lap with a mighty thump, careful not to hurt the lyre. “You don’t have to baby me,” he snaps. “I’m here to do what the Goddess desires and nothing more.”

“I’m not  _ babying  _ you.” Link makes a motion with his hands, dropping his leg flat on the ground again. “The Goddess didn’t tell you to keep your mouth shut, so if something’s on your mind you might as well spill it.”

“I said it’s  _ not my place.” _

“Says who?”

“Says  _ prophecy.” _

Link snorts, and it’s not kind. “Who gives a damn about prophecy.”

_ “You should!”  _ Sheik bites out. He tightens his mouth again, looking to the side like he didn’t mean for it to come out.  _ Slipping. _

Link stares at him, stares until Sheik drops his head, looking at the lyre, then looks up again. He thinks he has a better idea of the problems they’ve been having now. Why they’ve been present at all.  _ He cares and I don’t and that’s not the way it should be.  _ He’s got that right. Link doesn’t care. Not a bit. Prophecy and destiny have him gripped and stuck in equal measure. No happiness comes from fate.

“That’s enough,” Sheik says. An attempt to save face. “You need rest.”

So Link looks away, and doesn’t try to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [naiesu_s](twitter.com/naiesu_s)


End file.
